


Through The Fire

by el3anorrigby



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (2015)
Genre: Angst, Brave Napoleon, Hurt/Comfort, Illya's Watch, M/M, Napoleon would do anything for Illya
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-11
Updated: 2015-09-14
Packaged: 2018-04-20 05:16:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4775030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/el3anorrigby/pseuds/el3anorrigby
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Illya's watch is his priceless treasure. Napoleon knows that from the first time they'd worked together in Rome. And he would do almost anything to ensure Illya doesn't lose it again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

It happened in the blink of an eye. 

They weren’t sure when, where or how the fire started in the hotel. All they knew was they needed to make it to the exit as fast as they could. Thick smoke was starting to billow, hindering their progress but there was no time to waste. They simply couldn’t afford to stop. Illya practically dragged Gaby out of their room, along the corridor and down the stairs with Napoleon a few steps behind them. They surged past some of the hotel guests, most of them running in panic. 

They had run down a flight of stairs when Illya stopped all of a sudden. His act had Gaby bumping against his back.

“Illya?! Why are you stopping now?” she exclaimed in confusion. It was starting to get hot. She could taste the dust on her lips, on her tongue, and Illya’s apprehensiveness was not helping their cause. “Illya??”

Illya’s fingers were at his wrist and he looked horrified. It dawned on him he’d left the one thing he held dear, the memory of his father, by the nightstand and looking at Illya’s expression, Gaby could sense what he was intending to do next. 

“No! There is no time, Illya!” 

Illya looked away from Gaby and his grief strickened eyes met Napoleon’s who was standing three or four steps above them. Within that few precious seconds Napoleon understood what he had to do. He gave Illya a little nod and before Illya could understand what was happening, Napoleon was already running back up the stairs towards their room. His heart pumping on adrenaline almost stopped, could hardly believe what he was seeing. Napoleon was actually trying to retrieve his father’s watch for him. He had got to be insane!

“Solo! No!” he shouted to his partner but it was too late. Napoleon had disappeared, the smoke engulfing around him. It’s not happening. Illya could not believe it. He wanted to run after Napoleon but Gaby held him back.

“I have to get him!” he cried in despair but Gaby shook her head, eyes mirroring Illya’s frantic ones.

“Illya, we have to go!” she shouted, her hand tugging forcefully at his arms, pulling him back to his senses. She understood why he was hesitant, why he needed to get to Napoleon but it was impossible now. She couldn’t lose them both. It was unthinkable. And there was simply no time to muse over it. No time at all.

“Illya!” she cried again with more urgency. The flames were crackling from upstairs and the heat was getting intense. The smoke was choking her and it must be choking Illya too. But what about Napoleon? Gaby didn’t want to imagine. She was terrified for her friend’s fate. 

“Come on, Illya!”

The Russian cursed and screamed to himself. He looked at Gaby with wild panicked eyes. He needed to decide, he needed to figure out what to do. Go after the crazy American who’d run up the burning building or get out with Gaby while there was still time. 

“Illya Kuryakin! Listen to me, we need to go now!”

Gaby’s voice. She’s still there with him. 

_Get out while you still can, Illya. Save her!_

He could almost hear Napoleon's voice, urging him on. _It's the right thing to do! The only thing to do._

The smoke, the heat, it was getting too much.

“You cannot save your father’s watch. You cannot save Solo. Now come on!”

It wasn’t Napoleon's voice this time but Gaby’s. Illya’s heart crumbled because she was right. The place was falling apart and there was no way he could save Napoleon now. They needed to get out. Not looking back anymore, a decision that killed Illya’s insides, he pulled Gaby away, running as fast as their feet could take them.

And finally, when they came to a clearing, all Illya could think of then was Napoleon. He had left him behind. Feeling bereft, he stumbled to the ground, doubling over as grief took over him.

_I’m sorry, Napoleon. I’m so sorry._

 

***

 

“Illya?” 

He was lying flat on his back, coughing and gasping for breath. His head was swimming, his eyes watery. There was someone calling his name.

“Illya?”

He blinked at the distraught face before him. It was Gaby. She was looking down at him, her hands on his shaky shoulders. Tears were streaming down her cheeks. “I’m sorry, Illya.”

“Cowboy is stupid.” 

It was the first thing he could think of saying, the first thing he muttered. His voice was choking. “Why is he so stupid?”

“Oh, Illya,” Gaby cried and pulled his wrecked, trembling body into her arms, hugging him tight. 

While they stayed there on the ground, people were running around them in panic. Some were crying, some were hugging loved ones. Gaby knew they had been lucky to escape unscathed. The building was burning wildly now, the fire spreading like a force of nature. Soon after, there were sirens wailing, signalling the fire brigade’s arrival. Illya watched through blurried eyes as the brave men clambered down the vehicle, moving in quickly to hose down the fire, doing their best to salvage whatever they could.

The place was cordoned off. 

Illya didn’t know how long it took for the flames to finally subside. He had lost track of time. He had lost his watch. And he had lost Napoleon.

 

***

 

Moments later Illya found himself seated at the back of an ambulance. A blanket was placed over his shoulders. The medic told him it was for the shock he had suffered from and they also gave him some water to drink. Gaby was standing next to him, a gentle comforting hand on his arm. But they couldn’t find the right words to say to each other. And for Illya, no words could express what he was feeling right at that very moment. And as time went on, the silence was stifling them. 

“I’ve contacted Waverly. He’ll come to pick us up,” Gaby finally broke the silence after a while. Her soothing voice did nothing to comfort Illya. He was still numb. But he nodded his head in acknowledgement. 

“Illya.”

His eyes suddenly narrowed. He thought he was hearing things because he’d recognised that familiar voice anywhere. Slowly, Illya looked up. A hand was stretched out towards him holding his father’s watch. And Illya could see him. But he could hardly believe his eyes. 

“Solo?” he choked.

“I noticed where you’d put it. Next time, please don’t leave it behind?”

Illya could hardly believe his eyes. Napoleon was there in front of him, with his clothes, hair and face all covered in soot. There was a trickle of blood running down his temple. He looked a right mess. The sight made Illya’s heart constrict painfully. Napoleon was gasping, and Illya could see him swaying a little. Then he coughed as he bent forward, trying to catch his breath. 

“Peril, please take it.” 

Napoleon’s hands were now on his shaky knees as he tried to steady himself. 

But Illya still couldn’t move. He was shellshocked.

And it was Gaby who acted first after that, hugging Napoleon, crying into his soot covered shirt. “I’m alright, Gaby,” Napoleon soothed her, arms moving around her body to hold her tight.

“You know, normal people don’t just go rushing into a burning building,” she cried as she looked up at his face, wiping some of the soot off his cheeks. There was no familiar smirk. Just a grateful smile on his lips. “I’m not normal, I guess?” Napoleon said.

“Definitely not,” she mumbled, drying her tears. “Have the medical staff checked on you?” she asked, concerned. 

“Well no, not yet. I’ll do that in a minute,” Napoleon replied. He was still catching his breath.

“How did you…? Why, Cowboy?” 

Illya finally found his voice. But he was still seated, still rooted, not able to move a muscle. His body was trembling. The combination of shock and relief at seeing Napoleon alive left him reeling. Napoleon released Gaby’s arms. He took a few steps forward towards Illya, took one of his shaky hands in his and strapped the watch around Illya’s wrist. He let his touch linger there a little longer than it should.

“I know what this means to you, Peril,” his voice raw, words spoken low and gentle. “Can’t let you lose it again.”

Illya couldn’t grasp the emotion wracking through his body. He wanted to scream at Napoleon for his complete lack of regard for his own safety. No one had done anything for him like that before. No one. 

“You are so stupid,” Illya eventually said before pulling Napoleon into hug. A long, fierce hug, not wanting to let him go. 

“You are hurt?” he asked later while touching the gash on Napoleon’s forehead. He wiped the blood off his face with his bare fingers, the touch gentle.

“I’m alright” Napoleon replied with a slight cough. “Maybe just a bit smoked, I guess? And my head is a little bit woozy.”

“That is not calming to hear,” Illya said, his voice serious. Napoleon then gave Illya his famous lopsided grin for reassurance.

“Really, I am fine, Peril.” 

Illya looked down. He was hesitant for a moment. “This is my treasure, this watch.”

Napoleon nodded. “I know.” 

“But you didn’t have to do it. Why? You…you could have…”

Illya didn’t need to finish his stuttering sentence. Now that Napoleon was right in front of him, he didn’t want to imagine what could have happened. That awful thought he’d had before Napoleon had appeared miraculously, it was something Illya never wanted to experience again. 

Illya then held him at arm’s length and searched Napoleon’s eyes. There were questions swirling in his head but that could wait for later. He was just glad he was safe, overwhelmed with pure relief.

“Sorry about the strap. It’s a bit burnt though.”

“Thank you,” Illya said, his voice barely above a whisper. It’s all he could say after what Napoleon had done for him. His fingers traced the ruined strap. “Even if you did something stupid like this, I am grateful, Cowboy.”

Napoleon laughed and ruffled Illya’s hair gently. “You’re just as sooty as I am,” he remarked jokingly. But Illya remained serious. He didn’t want Napoleon to regard this lightly. He wanted, _needed_ , for Napoleon to realise how hard it had been when he thought he’d lost him.

“Don’t do that again. _Please_ , don’t. Not even for this,” Illya gestured at the watch. Then he looked at Napoleon again. “I almost lost you.”

His chest felt tight. Not because of the smoke he’d probably inhaled more than he should. It was that feeling he recognised too well. A feeling he had probably kept inside for too long. Gently, he lifted Napoleon’s face, a finger on his chin. “Do you understand?”

Napoleon didn’t say a word. He simply leaned in and placed a lingering kiss on Illya’s lips. That should be a good answer enough.

Later, Gaby watched on as her two favourite boys sat side by side at the back of the ambulance in silence. That was a rare sight indeed. But then at that moment in time, no words were ever truly needed. None.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the fire, there was so much Illya could do and say to let Napoleon know exactly how he feels.

Waverly’s decision to indefinitely abort the mission was unanimously welcomed by the three agents. The fire had clearly affected Illya more than he would care to admit, so when Gaby broke that piece of news, Illya was silently grateful. And a quick glance at Napoleon by his side told Illya he probably needed the break most.

They were mostly silent on the way to their new hotel which had been arranged duly by Waverly. Once they’d checked in, Illya and Gaby found their rooms were next to each other while Napoleon took the one two floors up. Lightning couldn’t strike them twice but despite telling himself that, Illya wished Napoleon’s room was nearer to theirs. Instead of saying anything, he kept his worry to himself, watching Napoleon’s retreating back as he made his way towards his own room. When he was gone, his heart sank a little. 

“Are you alright? You’ve been pretty quiet,” Gaby managed to throw the question at Illya when they were finally alone. 

“I’m fine,” Illya replied but being Gaby, she could detect his lie a mile away. They were at the hallway in front of their rooms and Illya was grappling with his key, cursing lowly in Russian when he couldn’t get the door to open. 

“You know, it would help if you were actually using the right key,” Gaby said with a slight snigger, dangling Illya’s room key she was holding in her hand in front of his face. The Russian scowled when he realised his mistake. 

“Why did you take my key?” he grumbled as he grabbed it off Gaby and then tossed Gaby her own key. 

“I didn’t take it!” Gaby said innocently. “I guess there was a mix up when the concierge handed it to us. And you clearly were not paying attention to it. Your mind was preoccupied with something? Or is it someone, Illya?” 

Illya knew what she was hinting at and swore Gaby was sometimes too cunning for her own good. He scoffed, finally managing to get into his room before Gaby stopped him again. 

“Illya.”

Her hand was holding his wrist and Illya turned around to face Gaby. Anger was arising in him. It wasn’t directed at Gaby but mostly to himself. Because he was a coward to face his own demons and it took Gaby, sweet little Gaby to make him realise what he needed to do. 

“You have to talk to Solo.”

“About what?” 

Illya was resenting Gaby now, Gaby and her innate ability to read his mind.

“About whatever that needs to be said,” Gaby continued. “You’re not a child and I’m not going to tell you what to do.”

“You already are doing it,” he scowled. 

Gaby rolled her eyes. “You’re not going to like it if I say it.”

“Alright, I’ll talk to him tomorrow,” he replied in a gruff tone, his stubbornness still prevailing. Gaby, however, wasn’t going to give up that easily.

“Illya, when I say talk, I mean have a really good talk. And that means for you to tell him how you feel.”

Illya was silent. He couldn’t hide anything from Gaby now, especially not after tonight. She had seen him at his lowest, when he had thought he’d lost Napoleon in the fire. He’d been distraught beyond grief. And only Gaby had laid witness to that. 

“If you don’t do anything about it then I will,” she threatened with a grin before leaving Illya alone to consider his options. 

 

***

 

Under any normal circumstances, Napoleon would already be drinking by now. The mini bar had a generous amount of selection for him to choose from but somehow, drowning himself in liquor was not a very tempting proposition. After having washed himself clean from all the soot and dust, and changing to a fresh set of clothes, Napoleon threw himself on the bed with a heavy groan. His chest still hurts and his head throbbed from the knock he’d gotten while trying to escape from the burning building. He closed his eyes, took in a deep breath and forced himself to think about what he had done earlier. 

There were two things that clearly came to his mind.

First, his foolish act of bravery, if one could call that, had entirely been his own decision. No one had forced him at gunpoint to save Illya’s prized possession. When he’d seen that frightened look in Illya’s eyes, Napoleon had acted on pure instinct alone. He hadn’t stopped to think of the consequences. If he had perished in the fire, he was certain no one would have really cared. An American spy and thief with no immediate family, a loner with the devil may care attitude, who would really miss him? He’d just be another name on U.N.C.L.E’s or the CIA’s casualty list. He had fully expected that.

What he had not expected was for Gaby to come rushing to him with tears on her cheeks. He had not expected Illya’s shellshocked reaction and for the Russian to wound his arms tight around him with words warm enough to light his very core. What happened had certainly knocked him off his feet. 

Second, and the most damning of all, he had done the unthinkable by kissing Illya. To his relief, Illya had reciprocated the kiss but then where did that leave them? Perhaps the shock at seeing him alive had caused Illya’s brain to short circuit. He would probably have knocked his teeth out if he had been thinking clearly, Napoleon was certain. And the uncomfortable silence he had to endure all the way to the hotel seemed to solidify his doubts. He groaned again, knowing the trouble he’d gotten himself into was entirely of his own making.

Napoleon wasn’t sure how long he’d lain there with those thoughts swirling in his head when he heard a knock on his door. He was too sore to move, too tired to care. Perhaps if he ignored it, whoever it was would leave him alone but the knocking became persistent. He was certain he hadn’t ordered any room service. With a loud groan, he dragged himself to open the door and when he saw Illya perched on the hallway, he should have known better than to expect anyone else. At the back of his mind, he had somewhat expected Illya to come with a confrontation, only he had not expected him to come this soon.

“Peril?” 

“We need to talk,” Illya said dryly. Napoleon nodded to that and stepped aside to let his partner in. 

“Okay, what do you want to talk about?” Napoleon asked. He walked over to Illya who was already standing in the middle of the room. There was evident tension behind Illya’s blue eyes, mirroring his own. Napoleon wondered whether he should have had that scotch earlier, he probably would be able to handle this situation better. But as it stood, he would just have to deal with Illya in his sober state of mind and with his heart thudding wildly in his chest. 

Illya on the other hand was not interested in mind games. He just wanted to get straight to the point.

“You are reckless, Cowboy,” Illya said, going for the kill, clearly surprising Napoleon with that sentence. 

“Excuse me?

“You hear what I say, you are reckless,” Illya reiterated, his eyes narrowed, serious.

“If you are talking about what I’d done earlier then…”

“No. By nature, you are reckless,” Illya cut him off mid sentence. “You always seem to have death wish. Never thinking before you act.” 

Napoleon took a step back and tried to gather his thoughts. Illya had come here to reprimand him about his bravado act and not the kiss? Unbelievable. And here he was worrying about the wrong reasons. Clearly Peril had forgotten that piece of very important detail and clearly it hadn’t effected him as badly as it had Napoleon. He shook his head in annoyance.

“Illya, I don’t understand. Why are you so angry?” he asked with his arms now across his chest. “I thought we were over this already. We have talked about it. You have thanked me and I have promised you not to do it again. So why are we still arguing about this?” 

“Because you are selfish.”

Was Illya intentionally doing this to hurt his feelings? Napoleon was straight up confused now. He threw his hands up in frustration. 

“Me? Selfish? Now that hurts, Peril. I was only trying to help you. And hey, I did get your watch back.”

“This is not about watch. This is about you,” Illya retorted, ignoring Napoleon’s futile argument and it frustrated the American to no end.

“Look, Illya, can we drop the subject now, please? I’m getting a headache not that my head is already killing me at the moment.”

For a split second, Illya’s gut twisted in worry. Napoleon had been through a lot that night and he didn’t want to put him through more pain but Illya hadn’t been spared either. He was emotionally drained to the core and he needed to get everything off his chest or he would never be able to find the courage to do it again. Moving quick like a cat, he grabbed Napoleon by the collar. Their noses almost touched. Their breaths mingled. He had a good mind to kiss him, to make his thoughts known but his self control prevailed.

“You care only for yourself. You act foolish and you don’t think about consequences. You don’t think what happens after,” he growled against Napoleon’s lips. Napoleon’s eyes were wide with shock at Illya’s outburst. Where was the caring and gentle Illya from earlier? With a violent twist of his shoulders, he managed to shrug himself free from Illya’s grip and straightened his shirt before shooting Illya with a look of defiance.

“Fuck sakes, Illya, what was that for?! Listen, you _don’t_ get to tell me what to do. You _cannot_ tell me what to do. Understand?” 

Napoleon’s voice was threatening, low and dangerous. His heart was reverberating at Illya’s action. Guilt flashed in Illya’s eyes at what he had done but aggression was the only way he knew how to put his message across and he continued doing just that. 

“Stupid. We work as a team now. You, me and Gaby. I can tell you what to do.”

“Oh, am I supposed to think about the team now?” Napoleon asked in a mocking tone. 

“Yes.” Illya was not about to lose this argument and Napoleon clearly was not impressed.

“Hey, maybe this is about you, Illya. Maybe this is not about me at all.” 

Napoleon was using his words against him and Illya’s hands that were already trembling, shook harder at Napoleon’s words. He clenched them into fists.

“Shut up,” he warned. 

“Maybe you should just leave.”

Illya’s heart raced. He was going to make Napoleon understand one way or another. 

“You think nobody cares, do you, Cowboy?”

Hearing that Napoleon finally snapped. 

“Fuck! Who are we kidding, Illya? No one’s really gonna give a shit about me if I die! I’m an acceptable casualty. I’ve always been! And yes, when you think about it, I really don’t have to care or think about the consequences of my actions.”

Illya bristled at Napoleon’s words. With one swift motion, he grabbed Napoleon firmly by the shoulders and slammed him hard against the wall behind them. 

“Do not talk like that. Don’t,” he growled.

Napoleon instinctively try to put up a fight but Illya’s hold was too strong. In the end, he let the Russian’s weight settled against him as he tried to catch his breath. He was waiting for the punch to come but it never did. Illya’s face was too close to his and his eyes, there was something in them Napoleon couldn’t grasp. 

For a moment, Illya’s grip on him had loosen slightly and Napoleon took the opportunity to cup Illya’s face. He couldn’t think straight anymore, not with Illya hovering dangerously close to him.

“Why do _you_ care so much, Peril?” Napoleon breathed. “Why?”

And that was simply Illya’s breaking point. He cared too much for Napoleon, more than he would ever know. And the thought of losing him earlier had opened his eyes to just how much. With a low moan, he let his head fall forward against the wall behind Napoleon, his chin resting at the crook of Napoleon’s neck. 

“Illya?” Napoleon murmured, slightly panicking. His hand slid around Illya’s neck to pull him close, the other grasping his arm. Illya was trembling. “What’s wrong?”

“I thought you had died,” Illya choked against Napoleon’s collar, his accent thickening. “It was terrible. The pain...I cannot explain it. I don’t want to feel that again. I cannot.”

Napoleon raised his right hand that was holding on to Illya’s arm and lifted his chin so he could see his face. He hadn’t realised the magnitude of Illya’s fear at losing him and looking into his eyes then told Napoleon everything he needed to know, made him understand every unspoken words Illya couldn’t say. 

“Illya,” he muttered but Illya didn’t wait for Napoleon to finish his sentence. His lips were already on his, pulling him in, his fingers wounding tightly in his hair. He then kissed Napoleon with every being of his soul, letting him know every single thing what words simply could not.

If Napoleon’s lung had been filled with smoke when he’d been in the burning building earlier, Illya’s kiss was filling it with air, like he was deprived of it. That overwhelming feeling Napoleon never thought he would ever have the privilege of sharing with anyone, Illya was giving it to him now. And he was falling for it. Hook, line and sinker.

 

***

 

Napoleon woke up too early the next morning. He found Illya’s arm draped across his chest. The way he held him close was more like an act of hanging on, afraid of losing something precious. He turned to face the Russian who was lying on his stomach, face pressed against the pillow. The incident from last night had ignited that raw emotion they had successfully denied through the course of their partnership. They both failed tremendously though last night. Napoleon sighed as his eyes fixed on the bedroom’s ceiling. 

In all honesty he didn’t really have a good sleep at all because his mind had been too preoccupied. Illya’s confession and his own realisation that their lives would never ever be the same again meant he’d always have to consider the consequences of his actions because now, there were people in his life that mattered. There was Illya, and there was Gaby.

He understood it’s never good to have any kind of emotional attachment, not in their line of work. He’d always tried his best to avoid any sort of serious relationship with anyone. All he had previously were meaningless flings. No strings attached. But now? Not only did he have one major emotional attachment, but to actually have it for his own partner? Dangerous. He knew it will lead to complications far bigger than he could imagine, missions could be compromised and the risks would be just too great. But that feeling in his gut, the way it twisted painfully when Illya admitted how he’d felt when he’d thought he’d lost him, Napoleon simply couldn’t ignore it. 

Illya stirred.

“Peril?”

His voice was greeted with a mumble, followed by Illya’s tightening grip, his hand curling around his shoulder, pulling him closer. It was an act of possession. Napoleon smiled. Not wanting to disturb him for he was obviously still sleeping, Napoleon tried to slide off, making as little movement as he could but Illya’s response was something he didn’t expect. He woke up with a start, quickly pushing himself up but at the same time was also pushing Napoleon down against the bed. His eyes were wide with panic. 

“Hey, Illya, I’m here,” Napoleon said, a soothing hand reaching out to his shoulder. “Look at me.”

Illya visibly calmed at Napoleon’s touch. He looked down at Napoleon with a breath of relief, realising he was still there by his side before slumping down once again on the bed. He hid his face at the crook of Napoleon’s neck. Slowly, Illya then placed kisses along Napoleon’s jawline, running his lips along the skin, making Napoleon shiver. Napoleon reacted by dipping his head down, searching for Illya’s lips.

“Don’t leave,” Illya mumbled. His eyes were closed again. 

“I won’t,” Napoleon replied. It was a promise.

Words were too heavy to come after that, so Napoleon simply let the silence take over them. He’d do the worrying later. For now, holding Illya in his arms were enough.

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was written based of this Tumblr prompt. 
> 
> Imagine Napoleon risking his life to recover Illya’s watch, whether it be taking on an entire mob who have stolen it or running into a burning building after Illya notices it has fallen off inside or any other scenario. Just imagine how deeply in love Illya would be knowing Napoleon had nearly DIED to get back his treasure. Think about how tightly Illya would embrace him, how hard he would kiss Napoleon’s lips. He would be absolutely, irrevocably in love.
> 
>  
> 
> And there is a line reference to an episode from Sherlock. If you've watched it before, you'd know which one I'm referring to. :)
> 
> I hope the story is not too angsty? Mushy? I just can't get the boys out off my head :P


End file.
